


of rough calluses against her old scars

by crescendi



Category: RIORDAN Rick - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 20:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescendi/pseuds/crescendi
Summary: "Thalia runs her tongue along the ridges of Reyna’s teeth, some song with a heavy bass ringing in their ears. Thalia’s hands rest on Reyna’s hips, sliding underneath her shirt, and she feels the friction of rough calluses against her old scars."





	of rough calluses against her old scars

Thalia is beautiful. It’s a simple fact—Thalia is beautiful. She could have her choice of any man or woman or anything outside or in between. There is no question about it. 

She has a wild allure to her she doesn’t try to build around herself, doesn’t  _ need  _ to try. It comes to her naturally, with her spiky dark hair and sharp blue eyes, in her ever-present leather jacket and many silver piercings, in the many pins on her bag and jacket and naturally smudged dark makeup, in her sharp features and pale skin.

She has a roaring laugh and fierce smile. She surrounds herself with an ever-changing array people. She spins and dances and laughs and  _ loves  _ without faltering, without questioning any step she takes. 

So different from Reyna, whose neutral expression makes her look angry. Who had never had a relationship outside of one-night stands and fleeting teenage girlfriends.

Who used to try so hard to impress, with faltering lines of makeup and doing her hair up fancy, a practice left behind in her junior year of high school. Who has dull brown hair, now kept in a simple braid, and dull black eyes with dark bags under them. Who has brown skin and blunted features and a Puerto Rican accent she still hasn’t lost to years of gentrification.

Who has tight-lipped smiles and hasn’t laughed genuinely in years. Who has to calculate every word she speaks, every step she takes, on the fear of letting out a trace of weakness. (Her father’s ravings never had left her mind, not really.  _ Never abandon your post. Never let anyone in _ .)

So how did it work out so Thalia was both straddling Reyna and kissing her?

Thalia runs her tongue along the ridges of Reyna’s teeth, some song with a heavy bass ringing in their ears. Thalia’s hands rest on Reyna’s hips, sliding underneath her shirt, and she feels the friction of rough calluses against her old scars.

This kiss is better than Rachel Dare, with her knotted hair and soft skin, better than Drew Tanaka, with her silky sheets and clinking jewels, better than Clarisse La Rue, at that one party, where she’d confessed in that post-coital bliss she was grieving for Silena, leaving Reyna with that blank feeling that came with being an adequate replacement for someone else.

Thalia tastes a little like mint and pine, but mostly she tastes thick and electric, and it’s better than Reyna had thought,  _ hotter  _ than Reyna had thought.

  


She could let it be just one kiss, but when Reyna really wants something, she does not give up. She got a degree. She got a good job. She has never wanted anything more than Thalia Grace.

Except, perhaps, to get out of her father’s house.

  


\----

  


“You’re fucking hot.” The phrase slips out from Thalia’s lips before she can think about it, before she can stop it. It’s not what she’d like to say, but it’s what comes out.

Beside her, on the opposite side of Thalia’s bed, Reyna hums and stretches, bare upper body arcing gracefully, the small of her back just lifting off the sheets. Thalia traces the curve of Reyna’s elegant body with her eyes.

Thalia can’t tell if she digs the comment or not, though, because Reyna’s expression has barely softened from its usual stoicism. She doesn’t say anything, so Thalia doesn’t either, instead choosing to stay silent in their shared moment.

They don’t touch each other out of some unspoken agreement, although who proposed it is a little hazy in Thalia’s mind. Maybe it isn’t in Reyna’s. She doesn’t want to ruin the moment by asking, though.

Thalia rolls over, pulls out her nightstand’s drawer and plucks out a cigarette and a lighter. She lights it and brings it to her lips, inhaling and exhaling a puff of smoke.

Self-destructive and self-indulgent, but then again, that’s what most of Thalia’s personality is, so she doesn’t feel too bad. 

Plus, she saves the good ones for after sex, like right now.

She watches the soft gray wisps float into the air and dissipate, waiting until they completely fade away before taking in another drag.

Reyna stays in Thalia’s bed, quiet, for long enough. Long enough for Thalia to staunch her cigarette and long enough for Thalia to start to drift into a light doze. Not long enough for her to not to feel the faint creaking of the shitty old mattress as Reyna stands up, almost noiselessly, as if she’s had practice at this, pulling on her discarded clothes methodically and quietly, one by one, the fabric barely making a rustle against her skin, and she slips out of her room.

_ A damn shame she left,  _ Thalia thinks, consciousness slipping away,  _ But I could get used to watching her leave. _

She closes her eyes and slips into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> dsffkjdsa this was gonna be longer but i wrote it @ three am and when i checked on it later i couldn't remember where it was going so  
> have an incomplete one-shot i guess


End file.
